


still alive, who you love

by RonnieSilverlake



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, Break Up, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, POV Second Person, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieSilverlake/pseuds/RonnieSilverlake
Summary: Adam has lost Shiro a couple of times now. (Second-person POV fic, written as part of a larger roleplay universe.)
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron)
Kudos: 6





	still alive, who you love

_I'm tearing up, across your face_  
_Move dust through the light_  
_To fide your name_  
_It's something fane_  
_This is not a place_  
_Not yet awake, I'm raised to make_

**_exhaustion_** is a heady thing, when it’s all you have.

* * *

**_it doesn’t take_** a full week after they leave on the mission for you to realize you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. it’s really – not that surprising of a revelation, in the end; you are a logical person, and when you really stop to think about it, it all makes sense. there is a _reason_ why it didn’t even occur to you to at least put away the framed picture of the two of you from your nightstand, let alone throw it out. like every time before when takashi was in space, it is the last thing you look at before falling asleep, and consequentially, your last thought before falling asleep is him.

**_it’s about four days_** before you stop to take a moment, to realize that this is an ingrained, near-subconscious thing that may not have solid ground to stand on anymore. the comfort that let you sink into sleep was the thought that when you think of him, somewhere far away in outer space, there is a possibility that he, too, is thinking of you.

**_obviously_** , you’ve ruined that now, so why should you get the luxury of being allowed your half of the thought, the comfort?

**_you put_** the picture away.

( ** _it doesn’t work;_** you still think about him every night, exactly the way you used to. you can’t make yourself stop it, even though you don’t deserve that comfort anymore. guilty, guilty, _guilty_. a terrible person.)

* * *

**_it’s the first time_** you have a panic attack in class when you hear the news. you are woefully underprepared for it, and it’s not like anyone else thinks to prepare you for it, either. some of the faculty knew you were together, but it wasn’t widespread knowledge (you are a private person, especially when it comes to keeping distance from your students, and your peers – takashi included – respect that), so of course the cadets would only know you taught keith, and he is suddenly missing from your class, so of course they fill you in. _oh, you know what he’s like_ , griffin says dismissively. _he probably lost his shit again when he learned that shiro’s gone missing_.

**_your mind instantly_** puts the last three words on repeat like a broken record. scratchy bakelite noise included – what else could it be, that wasp-like buzzing in your ear? that bubble that tightens around you until everything outside of it is faded, frayed around the edges, muted in colour and sound. the pillow pressed against your mouth you suffocate into. the fingers around your neck, tightening, tightening.

**_the kids_ ** – bless them, you think later – take it fairly well. someone runs to get a glass of water. someone stands over you as you scramble into your chair and talks to you, though you can’t make out the words. curiously, you can still make out the background conversation. _what’s the big deal? nobody liked keith. – he probably didn’t know about shiro, you asshole._ (griffin and – mcclain? you can’t make out the voices clearly enough.)

**_vaguely, you think_** about continuing the lesson, when your head is a little clearer, but by the time the fog is starting to lift, someone has fetched ryu, and she tells you to go and rest, that she will find cover for the rest of your classes.

( ** _ryu was always_** a little bit softer than anyone else you know at the garrison. you take her up on the offer anyway.)

* * *

**_you don’t know what you thought,_** really. neither people nor things die slowly all the time. sometimes it is sudden and violent. as the son of soldiers, you should know this.

**_it still leaves you breathless_** for months and months to come; you think you should know, by now, how to cope with grief – you’ve seen death before, you’ve lost people. it’s – not the same at all. you’re not sure what you’re doing wrong. all you know is it isn’t getting better. after a certain point the only time you aren’t feeling anxious is when you’re flying. you wonder how long you will be able to pretend otherwise.

* * *

**_it’s been over a year._** you’re digging through your drawers, quietly praying you are not quite as out of medication as you think you are. instead, your fingers bump against the frame and you pull out the picture you stuffed away.

**_you don’t consciously_ ** realize your panic is melting away as you stare at it, sitting on the edge of the bed. but it does occur to you, vaguely and far removed from what this emotion truly could be, that this is actually, as inexplicable as that is, the first time you’ve cried for takashi since he left.

**_perhaps you could be_** self-conscious, but nobody else sees, so what’s the point? you resolutely put the picture back to its place of honour, and slowly but surely start to gain a handle on everything that’s been spiralling out of control. you don’t deserve the relief, but you are weary to the bone, and you can’t find it in yourself to care. the only person who has the right to deny you your daydreams and memories is the person you are mourning. you will take what you can get.

* * *

**_you don’t find out_** about takashi being briefly back on earth until years later.

* * *

**_sam’s broadcast_** doesn’t tell you much about what exactly happened, but you do learn that takashi survived, and that’s honestly worth the two years you’ve spent having dreams about it and nightmares about the opposite. it’s just the slightest bit awkward when you meet him to ask more questions, mostly because you haven’t seen colleen since before you broke up with takashi, but they are both far warmer and more welcoming people than you remember, and you leave with some second- and third-hand stories about the things the love of your life (and his brother) have done in deep space – and a tight ache in your chest that feels suspiciously like what you vaguely think (but aren’t sure) hope might be.

( ** _have you seen it_ ,** is the first thing out of your mouth, and you’re almost surprised – but not really – at how you’re choking up in the middle of those four small words, because you’ve been doing _fine_ until now. you know exactly why, though, as soon as you see camila’s smile and her watery gaze and you almost drop the bottle of wine you brought – like you always do for your regular monthly evenings together – when she throws her fierce arms around you.)

* * *

**_you_ know _, somehow._** it rattles you to the core, but it doesn’t matter. you know it’s a decision that shouldn’t have been made, you know what the consequences will be, you know, know, _know_. it doesn’t make a difference. you know you will do it anyway, because that’s what you’ve always done; it’s not your call, and honestly, that is fine. your parents taught you early what a soldier is. your dad would do the same. it stings, a little bit – not because you’ve lost hope, but exactly because you still have so much of it. it’s been six years since you last were happy, and you don’t remember what it felt like, but you _know_ it with absolute certainty, that takashi will be back. just like you know you will die before he arrives. you don’t really mourn your own lost opportunity; you’ve done your mourning and then some. but you do think, at the back of your mind, how bitter and pointless this life is, how you’re glad you’re the one going and he will live (he has to), but now he will never get the apology he would deserve.

( ** _objective. you used to be_** far more objective. you still are, but not about yourself. this is a wound you inflicted upon yourself, and did not let properly heal. it’s difficult, when the only person who could apply the salve is gone. still, these are the facts: you are going to die, and it does not occur to you that he will mourn you.)

* * *

**_everyone talks about_** your life flashing before your eyes when you’re dying. you feel cheated for it not happening to you. it’s your fault, probably; too practical of a person, you don’t have time for it when you work almost on instinct (it isn’t, though, it is something far more – _skill_ ), piloting a fighter with its comms dead, navigator dead, left wing on fire. you plummet towards the earth and you are sure of your demise because the enemy seems sure of it: they don’t follow you to finish the job.

**_of_ course _the catapult doesn’t work._** why would anything ever be easy? this aircraft is not built to withstand the crash. you have to time this well – jump when you’re close enough to earth to survive, but far enough not to be caught in the flames. you do the math in your head. for a brief second of madness, you wish you had a paper and a pencil, or a blackboard. you never did like using your phone for the equations.

**_you land on your arm_** and then on your stomach, and then a few more places as you are thrown back into the air by the force of impact, rolling around your axis like a badly thrown pebble across the pond. you have three seconds of respite – nowhere near enough to inventory your broken shoulder and arm and fractured pelvis and – punctured lung, maybe? no broken ribs, though, how did that – ?

**_the plane explodes_** behind you, showering its pieces everywhere. it is all you can do (and even that, barely) to curl in on yourself on the ground and hide your face in between your unbroken arm and a small rock formation right in front of you. you feel – you’re not sure what. it could either be tiny pinpricks or wide-bladed knife stabs across your back, wedging into your spine and not being pulled out. _so close_ , you think, frustrated, as you feel the warmth of the blood spreading on your back and soaking your jacket. you had a better chance than most at survival, and yet.

**_and yet._ **

* * *

**_your fever dream_** of being carried, of wet towels against your face, of thick white scrolls of gauze, of pressure on your back that seems to push the knives even deeper – doesn’t feel much like the afterlife.

**_it doesn’t much_** feel like reality, either, though, nor anything that comes afterwards.

* * *

**_you are both_ ** very different. you are not sure why you ever thought anything could be like it was. you are irreparably damaged (you haven’t dared to confirm it yet, but what else could you be?), and takashi has been through more things than you think you could comprehend if he told you all at once.

**_except, the way he says_** your name is the same it’s always been, even if it’s choked, even if you almost feel like panicking again when he clings to you and begs you not to push him away.

**_as if you didn’t_** spend six years hating it that you ever did that in the first place.

**_you are so tired as to wonder_** if it’s really possible for this universe to be kind. it is undeniable, though – a gift, to the both of you, your _lives_ , with your heart in your throat and takashi’s soft, colour-lost hair between your fingers. your lips on his cheek and his watery laugh and then yours.

**_it occurs to you,_ ** with takashi in your arms, that he is the one that taught you to hope. that the only real hopes you were able to hold onto were all thanks to him, _about_ him. it’s impossible not to hope now, when he tells you he wants this, wants _you_ , that you both want the same thing.

( ** _belief may yet to come,_** but hope will do just fine for now.)

* * *

**_he picks up the picture_ ** from your nightstand. _i didn’t dare think of you_ , your heart shatters with the impact of his words, and you pull him with you onto the bed. _they might have taken it._

_**you can do that now.**_ still a strange concept. a future.

( ** _you already know_** you want all of it with him. whatever’s left, all of it. maybe eventually you’ll have the courage for it. among other things.)

**_he wraps around you_** as he falls asleep. you wake up with your bones hollow like a bird’s.

**_there is more_ ** than one way to take flight.


End file.
